


I Like Cowboys

by digitalduckie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Casual Sex, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Implied Relationships, M/M, Pining, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalduckie/pseuds/digitalduckie
Summary: Preston shares a name with the esteemed Minuteman, but he'd like to share something more.





	I Like Cowboys

**Author's Note:**

> This has no explicit sexual content in it. Yet. I'm not certain I will ever finish writing the explicit content but thought I'd share this part anyway.
> 
> Garvey/Sturges is implied. Pretty vaguely so, even.

That evening, Garvey stood over a map spread out over one of the picnic tables that had been moved under the cover of the projection house. The General had a Pip-Boy to help her find her way, but everyone else had to work the traditional paper way. They had a few allied settlements marked and several others they knew of as well. Locations of potential threats. It was a map that none had had the time for until the General helped them secure the Starlight Drive-In.

And now, with her announcement of a visit to the Capital, one that could take a month round-trip, Garvey wanted to be sure he was prepared to run things in her absence. It was a responsibility he'd already avoided in the past. One of the reasons he had insisted she take up the mantle despite her feelings that he was qualified. The complement had been bittersweet.

Now, however, he had no choice. He optioned to hold onto the promise that this was temporary and that she would be back. Told himself that he needed to pull himself up just a little bit longer. All he had to do was get more settlements to agree to their cause. To network.

To prove that the Minutemen were a capable and worthwhile cause, just as he had always believed when he'd first enlisted.

As a sinking feeling came over him, the soft thud of a beer bottle setting on the table pulled him from his thoughts. Across the space, a young man pulled up a seat, straddling the bench sideways. He was clad in a vault suit and leather jacket, black-rim glasses perched atop the large arch of his bridge. He hadn't had a haircut or a shave in a while and his curls threatened to block his vision. Yet he sat there with a confident smirk tugging to the left and held up a second beer.

"Howdy." His accent was obnoxiously thick with local flavor and it made the word sound alien. If Sturges had said it, however…

"Um, good evening. It was Preston, right?" Sometimes folks shared a name but something about this particular instance felt strongly juxtaposed, but to what Garvey couldn't quite place a finger on. It was as though he felt he should be looking in the mirror but it was perhaps one of those old pre-war fun house ones.

"How could you forget?" Preston laughed. "Brought you a drink cause you looked like you were workin' so hard."

Garvey acknowledged with a glance at the bottle that had pulled him away from the edge of a breakdown. That fact alone was enough to make him wary of imbibing, but also the air the other man put on told him this was an offering, a bargaining chip, and to accept it was to accept something ulterior.

"Thank you, but I am working." And almost apologetically he added, "But maybe I'll have it when I'm done."

Seemingly not disappointed, and he looked the type to be clear about when he was disappointed, Preston nodded and took a swig of his own. He didn't take the statement as an invitation to leave, either. Garvey warred with himself, fighting the instinct to shoo him off and insisting that company would be a welcome distraction from the darker corners of his mind. Surely he was harmless anyway and, given his relation to the General, it could be good to get to know him.

"Are you a cowboy?" Asked with clearly a lot more on his mind depending on the answer.

"Excuse me? Er- I mean, no."

"You sure look like one." Preston leaned forward, arms folded across the table.

"I-"

"It's the hat." He pointed. "I like it."

"Thank you." Garvey had never given his hat a great deal of thought. It certainly completed his ensemble and there had been a time when it was treasured by small children in various settlements. They would ask to borrow it and then run around exclaiming they, too, were Minutemen. He frowned just slightly at the memory, needing both to hold onto the light of it and to drown it out with the beer provided.

"I think cowboys are hot." An eyebrow shot up with the confession, more a statement of fact with an undertone of 'how about them apples?' And there it was. The reason for the interruption, setting Garvey into a near internal panic.

"Oh, well, that's nice I suppose." His shoulders stiffened and he glanced about their surroundings to see who might be watching.

“Look, I ain't going to waste your time because it'd just be wasting my time-”

“Right. Morning will be here sooner than you think and you've all got a long  
journey ahead.” Pleasantly on the same page, right? There was a lot to be done before they set out.

“Yeah, but you know, I still got plenty of time to suck your cock.” Preston shrugged, his offer explicit now. Extremely. Garvey flinched, reaching for the beer and bringing it to his lips in a blind attempt to preoccupy his mouth and avoid saying or doing something stupid before he realized what he was doing. Without a sip, he forced himself to set it back down and address the issue.

“You're awfully romantic, aren't you?”

“Romantic?” He looked almost taken-aback by the word, maybe even a little lost to some memory of the past. It passed and Preston returned his gaze to the Minuteman. “I ain't trying to make you fall in love with me or some bullshit like that. I just thought we could have a little fun.”

“But you're the General's grandson. What would she say?”

“Uh, that I got one shot and if you turned me down I'd have to leave you alone.” It was half a grumble, the recalcitrance of youth. Apparently the two had already had this discussion. In hindsight, Garvey could identify it as the very moment when they'd been introduced that afternoon. Preston had seemed friendly and eager to say hello, but the General had pulled the young man aside and her husband had made small talk with him as a now obvious distraction from their heated discussion. On one hand, grateful that she had been ready to defend him and on the other... Had Preston been planning this all day?

“Oh.”

“I mean, what's it even matter? I ain't a kid and neither are you. So, if we wanna fuck, what should she care?”

“Well, she is my commander...” In so much as informal verbal oaths and volunteering could be seen as a legitimate chain of command. With the world the way it was, however, and especially with the current state of the Minutemen, it was all they had. It was something Garvey respected, because without it they could be scattered, divided. As they already had been.

“Besides, what about, uh, your boyfriend?” The General had returned from Goodneighbor with not only her grandson and husband in tow, but another young man accompanying Preston. A raider, or rather, a former raider seeing as he appeared 'tamed'.

“Dean ain't my boyfriend.” Now Preston really did huff, offended. He even had the same puffed out cheek that the General would have on occasion. It was actually kind of charming.

Garvey began to scan the map again though he knew there wasn't anything he was looking for on it. Sometimes people just needed to feel as though they were focusing on something other than what had been put before them in order to truly tackle the issue. Preston let the other man have the silence for a moment as he lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag and exhaling the smoke to the side.

“It's still not an answer.”

By some reasonable standards, the lack of an answer was an answer itself. Though Garvey knew he was lying to himself if he was going to argue that his lack of a straightforward rejection or agreement was a sign he had actually made up his mind. The table creaked under his weight as he leaned against it, hands on the surface. It didn't help a lot to relieve the burden he felt.

“Why me?” he asked the map, quietly.

“Because you're hot. You're the hottest guy I've seen in a long time and I've been up and down the coast for like a whole damn year now.”

Garvey didn't raise his head as he shot Preston a look from under the brim of his hat. Was that it? All this guy needed was someone he deemed attractive?

“I'm flattered.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure what more you want from me.”

“You just keep makin' excuses. Shit, if you want to say no, just do it. But trust me, if you say yes, it'd be a good time.”

“And that's all you want?”

“That's all there is.” It was true. Maybe not for the same reasons Preston would say it (whatever they may be), but Garvey knew he would have nothing else to give him even if he had wanted. And not even just because the only thing they knew about each other was that they shared a name. Another look around to see who may be listening in before he took hold of the beer.

“Fine. Okay. But this stays between us, please.” The General may be okay with it, but others may have different opinions when nosing into the business of their neighbors. Preston grinned and mimed zipping his mouth shut even going as far as to move his cigarette from one corner to the other.

“There's a storage room behind the screen. It's not being used at the moment so I guess...” No one was likely to discover them there. He hoped. “Give me a couple of hours.”

“Sure thing, partner.” Preston ran his tongue across the edge of his front teeth in a move as seductive as a wolf licking its lips before finishing off his beer in one last swig. “I'll catch ya later.”

As he left, Garvey finally settled onto the bench himself and set his hat aside. Had curiosity got the best of him? Did something in him take pity on Preston's bluntness? Or maybe he was lonely. He refused to believe he had a broken heart. To Hell with it. What difference did it make why he said yes? He might as well drink the beer and enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet before discovering what sort of mess he might have just gotten himself into.


End file.
